


Don't Make Me Kiss You

by ThunderDownOnGreenside



Category: Free!
Genre: Attraction, Awkward Flirting, Boys Kissing, Help, M/M, Sexual Humor, Sexual Tension, these two will be the death of me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-07
Updated: 2014-10-07
Packaged: 2018-02-20 05:34:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2416754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThunderDownOnGreenside/pseuds/ThunderDownOnGreenside
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s official. Makoto Tachibana is too damn hot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Make Me Kiss You

 

He has to keep reminding himself that this is his own fault, as much as it pains him to admit it. He didn’t _have_ to say yes to Tachibana’s request, he didn’t _have_ to actually show up, he didn’t even have to actually do anything when he got there. _Hell_ , he could leave right _now_ if he really wanted to! Who was going to stop him? Certainly not Makoto, who had hardly even been able to ask him for the favor in the first place.

 

 

The favor being something along the lines of weight-training assistance or whatever. Calisthenics and posture advice and basically all that regimental workout shit that Sousuke lives and breathes. Really, you don’t get biceps and shoulder muscles like his without being bred for pushups and workout benches.

 

 

Makoto has apparently figured that out, and that’s how Sousuke has found himself here, coaching his fellow swimmer on the proper sit-up techniques and trying not to lose his goddamn _mind_ because _holy shit_ Makoto Tachibana is hot as _fuck_.

 

 

They’ve worked up a good sweat by now and Makoto’s singlet is sticking a little too closely to the tensing muscles beneath it, accentuating the dips and curves across his torso and riding up just enough at his waist to reveal that his black sweatpants are slung low across his hips. His hair is damp and falling into his eyes, arms and abs straining to carry out the movements; every now and then, he lets out this little sound of exertion that, loathe as he is to admit it, shoots straight to Sousuke’s dick. _Fuck_.

 

 

“Eh, Sousuke-san, you-”

 

 

“Just Sousuke.” He corrects as a force of habit, and Makoto’s cheeks get even pinker.

 

 

“R-right. Sousuke.” Shit, statement retracted, hearing his name without the honorific in such a breathless tone is _not_ going to make his life any easier. “Could you...could you come down here for a second?”

 

 

Upon glancing in Makoto’s direction, Sousuke comes to the conclusion that if he gets any closer to the brunet, he may end up doing something that he’s bound to regret. Like look at him for too long. Maybe he’ll make the mistake of touching him. Hell, why stop there? He should just kiss the fucker and get it over with.

 

 

“Sure.” Makoto pushes himself into a sitting position and Sousuke settles down beside him, trying not to watch the way that he brushes his hair out of his eyes. “What’s up?”

 

 

“I keep sliding around,” the brunet admits. “I uh...I need you to hold my legs. Rin says having an exercise partner increases productivity, so...yeah. Do you mind...?”

 

 

 _Use the wall,_ he should say. _Let’s do something else_ , is what he should tell him. _This’ll strengthen your legs too_ , is something that he could bullshit, but no. It’s never that easy, and his brain isn’t firing on all pistons of restraint right now, especially not when Makoto is still panting right next to him.

 

 

“No problem, Tachibana.” Sousuke smirks, moving to kneel between the other’s legs. “You don’t have to be so shy about it, either.” He adds, which makes Makoto blush.

 

 

They aren’t too far into the next set of sit-ups when Sousuke comes to the sad conclusion that he’s fighting a _serious_ problem downstairs. He can literally feel Makoto’s entire body tensing and the power that pushes through his muscles, feet bracing against the ground and abs clenching as he goes through the movements, and if this keeps up he won’t be able to hold himself back. His pants are getting tight and he prays to every god that may be watching this disgraceful moment of his life for some self-restraint.

 

 

Then Makoto falters, gasps, falls back against the floor; he lies there motionless for a while, head tipped back and chest heaving for breath.

 

 

“...You alright there?” Sousuke ventures after a lengthy pause, trying to look anywhere but where he really wants to be looking right now. God, he is _so_ fucked.

 

 

“Y-Yeah,” Makoto pants, and the other almost screams because _fuck, that sound_. “I just...need a break, that’s all.”

 

 

Sousuke will never really know what possesses him to do what he does next, and he highly doubts that anyone will ever be able to explain the rationale behind it. It’s impulsive, it’s absurd, and it’s unbelievably _stupid_. He is _so_ going to hell for this.

 

 

He crawls forward between Makoto’s legs, stopping when his hips meet the lighter brunet’s thighs and hovering over him, hands braced against the floor on either side of his head as he gazes down into his confused, wide eyes.

 

 

“S-Sousuke?”

 

 

“You said you needed a break, right?” his voice comes out deeper and slower than usual, and Makoto nods. “Yeah. Well, sometimes, it helps to release the tension that you’ve built up from a workout. Make enough sense?” Makoto nods again. “Good, there we go. So...do you trust me?”

 

 

There’s a pause this time, and the other peers up at him through slightly hazy, but still confused, green eyes. He’s contemplating, cheeks flushed and breathing uneven, and Sousuke gets the feeling that somehow, he knows what he’s up to.

 

 

So when Makoto nods for a third time, looking marginally less uncertain than before, he doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t even think about it. He kisses him, and goddamn does it feel good. Makoto’s lips are unbelievably soft, and it isn’t long before there are curious fingers winding in Sousuke’s hair – when he lowers himself further against Makoto’s body, he notices something that makes him grin into the kiss and pulls a little gasp out of the other.

 

 

“You’ve been holding out on me,” he teases breathlessly, and Makoto blushes furiously, covering his face with his arms.

 

 

“N-no, I haven’t!” his denial is betrayed by how badly his voice shakes. “I was f-fine until y-you got so close!”

 

 

Sousuke lets out a soft, deep laugh that makes Makoto whimper before leaning forward to kiss him again, moving one of his arms out of the way to make the job easier. The contact is much deeper this time, heavier and wetter; Sousuke hardly even lets the other up for air, especially once he starts making these soft moaning noises in the back of his throat. It had been too much earlier, and it isn’t getting any easier now, but at least he’d already pushed any semblance of sanity and self-restraint aside.

 

 

“What do you want to do?” Sousuke murmurs next to his ear, and the other shivers. “Looks like you’ve got an obvious problem down there...want me to help you out?”

 

 

“Sousuke...” Makoto’s voice comes out hilariously high and he clears his throat, trying to fix the sound. “I...you don’t have to.”

 

 

“And if I want to?” he shifts his weight, letting one hand ghost down the other’s chest and stomach, lingering somewhere along the waistband of his sweatpants. “It’ll help you relax. Trust me.”

 

 

Sousuke doesn’t really give him time to answer otherwise, and quite frankly, Makoto doesn’t really feel like refusing anyway.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for the content cop-out T_T I'm not quite comfortable writing anything more...er...you know, with these two yet. If I keep writing them though (and boy do I plan to) I'll hopefully work up the skill and courage to achieve it XD Thank you for reading!


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